


Aftermath

by Persiflage



Category: Law & Order: UK
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-30
Updated: 2010-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alesha's relationship with James takes an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Author Notes: This was my first ever non-Doctor Who fanfic! This is the fic I said I wouldn't write after watching _Unsafe_ \-- obviously the plot bunnies don't listen to me! This fic was written for lj user iko who put some of the ideas in this story into my head.  
>  Beta: the lovely lj user fourzoas.  
> Disclaimer: Law and Order: UK is owned by ITV.  
> Spoilers: 1.04: Unsafe

On the Friday after the Slade business is dealt with, James Steel arrives at Alesha Phillips' flat at 7pm sharp, bottle of wine in hand. He'd wanted to take her out for a meal as a 'thank you' for her support in the Slade business, but she'd countered with an invitation to dinner at her place, and although he'd felt that wasn't much of a thank you if she was cooking, she'd insisted, so he'd eventually agreed. He rings her bell and she comes to the door, looking pleased to see him.

"Come in." She steps back to let him inside and accepts the bottle of wine with a murmur of surprise: it's expensive stuff, not that she'd expected him to bring supermarket plonk.

Alesha sets the bottle down on the hall table and helps him out of his jacket, taking his scarf at the same time, and hangs both on the old-fashioned hat stand.

"Come through to the kitchen," she says, picking up the wine and leading the way.

"Thanks." He follows, curious about seeing her home. Up until now they've kept things on a fairly strict professional level – neither one ever really discussing their home life with the other. He recalls Alesha's surprise when George let slip that he had been involved with McArdle; she knows he's divorced and has a child, but that's all. And all he knows of her private life is that she's single, and nearly as married to the job as he is. But her support and help over the business with Slade has tipped their relationship further towards friendship, and he's realised he likes the shift.

"Penny for them," she says, breaking him from his abstraction as he stands in the kitchen doorway, staring unseeingly at the room.

He focuses his attention back on Alesha, and he sees a slight amusement in her expression. "Sorry," he says. "They're not really worth a penny."

She tilts her head slightly, then nods in acceptance. "Do you want to open the wine," she says, "and I'll serve?"

He smiles, and picks up the corkscrew, opening the wine carefully, and pouring them both a glass, as she picks up a plate and serves a large portion of stir fry from a wok; she sets the plate on the table before serving up a second plateful.

"Okay?" she asks, almost shyly. She's not used to cooking for others and has spent two days worrying about what to offer for this shared meal.

"It looks lovely," he answers honestly.

"Sit down then," she says, gesturing at a chair.

"Thanks."

They sit down and begin to eat, and after the first few moments, Alesha makes small talk, feeling slightly constrained by the silence. She's remembering eating Chinese take away with him in the office, and wondering why she doesn't feel as relaxed about eating with him now. She decides it's the environment – having him here is so unusual that she needs time to adjust.

Eventually they begin to talk properly about themselves; they're only talking about the movies and music they like, the holidays they've enjoyed – no big secrets here, just the little things that define them as people outside of work. But it's far more personal than most of their conversations. They relocate to the sitting room with their coffees, and Alesha finally feels relaxed at last.

At the end of the evening, after Alesha helps James into his coat, he hugs her. "Thank you." His voice is soft, but his expression is warm.

She smiles up at him as she hugs him back. "You're welcome."

"Goodnight."

She watches as he walks down the drive to his car, parked neatly behind hers, then closes the door. She shakes her head slightly, quietly pleased about his hug. Then she goes to do the washing up, turning on the radio for the news: the flat seems quiet now he's gone, although he wasn't noisy.

Dinner at her place on Friday night becomes a weekly routine, and something they both look forward to. George notices something slightly different in their behaviour to each other, and feels pleased that they've settled into friendship; he's been worried about James being too focused on work for anything else since his divorce, and he thinks Alesha's steady friendship is good for James.

* * * * * *

"Is it me, or is Matt Devlin flirting with you even more lately?" James asks one evening about a month later; they're eating a very nice strawberry cheesecake which he'd brought with him for dessert.

"It's not just you," Alesha says, rolling her eyes. "You'd have thought he'd have got the message by now. I suppose I should give him points for persistence."

"Is he not your type then?" he asks curiously, trying not to stare at the way she's unselfconsciously licking her fork clean.

"No. Not even close."

"How come? You don't have to answer that, if you'd rather not," he adds hastily. "It's none of my business."

She lifts an eyebrow. "Why would I mind? Friends talk about all sorts of stuff."

He shrugs a shoulder, not sure how to answer. They still haven't talked that much about their personal relationships, partly because his have been messy, and he worries she'll think that he just wants to cry on her shoulder: he's seen the way needy people are drawn to her.

"He's too young for me," Alesha says, bringing his attention back to the conversation.

"Too young? But, he's a few years older than you," James says, frowning.

"I know." She finishes the final mouthful of cheesecake. "I like older men," she tells him.

"Oh." He swallows the last of his dessert. "Shall I make some coffee?"

She nods, wondering if he's going to ask further questions, but the conversation moves on to other things.

* * * * * *

Two months after they start their weekly dinners, they lose a case, and a man who's raped two women goes free; Alesha is distraught, but does her best to hide it.

"Would you rather I didn't come round tonight?" James asks her as he falls into his chair afterwards.

She looks hurt, and he fights the urge to get up and pull her into a hug, uncertain how she'd take him crossing that line in the work place.

"If you'd rather not come," she says, turning away from him.

He gets up quickly and moves around his desk to stand in front of her, stopping her from walking out. "That wasn't what I asked you," he says gently, holding her shoulders. "I didn't know if you'd prefer to be on your own this evening, or if company would be better."

He ducks his head to look into her downcast eyes. "Alesha?"

"I – " She stops, biting her bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears.

"Hey, it's okay to cry if you want to," he tells her, pulling her into a hug after all.

George stands in the doorway, watching them. He'd come to offer Alesha some words of comfort, knowing that she would take the verdict badly, but when he sees James is there, he quietly goes away again.

* * * * * *

About three months after their first dinner together, James insists on cooking because it's Alesha's birthday, and she has refused to go out for a meal with him.

"It's only a number," she protests when he first tries to persuade her to go out to a restaurant, two weeks before her birthday.

He laughs softly. "You are much too young to be saying that," he tells her.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Nevertheless," she says precisely. "I do not wish to dine out."

"Why?" he asks, puzzled.

"Because there's never any privacy for a conversation since restaurants are generally noisy. I'd rather not have to shout at you all evening."

He shakes his head, somewhat baffled. "Then at least let me cook for you," he says. "I can cook," he adds, when she opens her mouth to speak.

"All right, all right," she sighs. She can't deny she's curious to know what he will cook, but she makes a mental note to ensure there's some pizza in the freezer, just in case.

* * * * * *

On her birthday James turns up at 6pm, carrying a bottle of champagne and a full carrier bag.

"Champagne?" she says, shocked, when he hands her the bottle.

"It **is** your birthday," he reminds her, then shocks her further by ducking his head to kiss her cheek. "Happy birthday, Alesha."

"Thank you," she murmurs, once she's found her voice again. She sets down the bottle, then takes the carrier bag, being careful not to peep inside, while he slips off his coat and scarf, before he hangs them up.

Once in the kitchen he loosens his tie, rolls up his shirt sleeves and, quite improbably, dons a blue and white striped apron. Alesha fights a smirk, but something must show on her face because he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Yes?" he asks, his tone teasing.

"Nothing," she answers, smiling.

He shakes his head, then opens the champagne, pouring them half a glass each, before setting to work washing and chopping vegetables, slicing steak into strips, and heating oil in the wok. They talk about wine and champagne, or rather he talks, and she listens, contentedly sipping from her glass. This is the most relaxed she's ever seen him, and she thinks she should have let him cook before.

"Am I boring you?" he says suddenly, stopping mid-anecdote.

"No," she assures him quickly.

"You looked as if you were miles away."

She gets up from the chair where she's been sitting watching him, and wanders over to his side. "I was just thinking I should have let you do this sooner. I've never seen you this relaxed before."

He smiles and brushes an errant hair from her cheek, and she shivers at his touch.

"You're not cold, are you?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"No." She looks into the wok. "That looks good."

"Thank you."

He begins to stir the meat and vegetables, and she's struck yet again by how economical his movements are, how controlled he usually appears. She wonders how often he really lets go, and then she wonders if he's this controlled in bed, and feels a blush heat her face. She hasn't thought of him in that way before – she's been content with their friendship – and she wonders if it's the champagne that's making her think this way.

He serves the food and tops up their champagne, and they eat and talk animatedly throughout the meal, discussing what they've done for various birthdays.

"Leave the washing up," she tells him. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"I'll do it before I go," he says. "I'm not leaving you with my washing up on your birthday."

She shakes her head, but doesn't argue with him; they take their glasses and the remainder of the champagne into the sitting room and settle down side by side on the sofa after she's turned on the radio. When James slips an arm around her waist, Alesha just snuggles closer, and they talk about their families, and family traditions.

By the time the champagne is finished, she's feeling a little tipsy, and the hand that's been resting on his knee is wandering somewhat higher. He turns his head and kisses her, and she moans quietly when he swipes his tongue across her lips.

"James!"

He takes advantage of the moment and slips his tongue into her mouth, reaching up to hold the back of her head as he deepens the kiss. His other hand is stroking the small of her back, the cotton of her blouse creating a pleasant friction against her skin.

After a few moments she shifts sideways, and he pulls his mouth away from hers and lifts her effortlessly into his lap.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," she answers breathily, feeling an aching throb between her legs.

As if he can read her mind, his right hand slides up under the hem of her skirt, and he lightly caresses her thigh.

"Shit!" she gasps, pulling her mouth from his and desperately sucking in lungfuls of air.

"Alesha – " He stops, resting his forehead against hers.

"What is it?" she asks.

"I want you," he answers softly. "I know I'm too old – "

"Too old?" she scoffs, pulling back and giving him one of those looks of hers that tells him he's being an idiot. When he open his mouth to argue, she reaches up to cup his face, then kisses him deeply.

"Come to bed," she says, sliding backwards off his lap to stand in front of him, and then offering him her hand.

He stands up, but instead of taking her hand, he scoops her up into his arms, making her giggle. "You'll have to direct me to your bedroom," he tells her as she slides her right arm around his neck.

"The door to the left of the front door," she tells him, nipping his earlobe.

"Are you drunk?" he asks, pushing the door open with his foot.

"No more than you," she answers as he carries her over to the bed and then sets her down on her feet beside it.

He puts his hands on her shoulders, and she tilts her head to one side. "What?"

"You're sure about doing this?" he asks.

"You started this. Well, you kissed me, anyway" she says, putting her arms around him and pulling him closer. "And I can tell you want to." She rubs her body against his meaningfully.

He grins wolfishly and ducks his head to kiss her, sliding her cardigan off her shoulders and then down her arms. She pulls away from his kiss to take his tie off.

"I can't believe you left that on," she says as she tosses it on top of her cardigan which James has dropped onto the stool in front of her dressing table.

"Hey, at least I'm not wearing my jacket as well," he points out.

"True."

She unbuttons his shirt as he unbuttons her blouse. Both items are discarded onto the chair, and James reaches up to cup her breasts, eliciting a shiver and a moan from Alesha.

"I've always suspected you don't wear a bra," he observes quietly, as he rubs his thumbs over her nipples.

"I – " She's rendered speechless when he lowers his head to gently suck first on one nipple and then the other. She rubs her thighs together, aware of how wet she's growing. "James!" she gasps.

"You're beautiful," he tells her, moving his hands away, then pulling her closer.

"You're pretty attractive yourself," she says as she reaches between them to unfasten his trousers.

"Do you take this skirt off over your head or down your legs?" he enquires as he unzips it at the back.

"Down," she answers, laughing. "Over my head?"

"Don't mock," he says. "Some women take their skirts on and off over their head because the skirt's too tight to go down their legs."

She shakes her head and shoves his trousers down off his hips as he pushes her skirt down. She can't resist cupping his erection through his boxer briefs, and he shivers at her touch before cupping her sex through her knickers.

"Oh, you're very wet," he observes, his voice husky with desire.

"There's a box of condoms in the top drawer of the dressing table," she tells him, and he nods his understanding, then moves away to get them.

* * * * * *

A few minutes later Alesha lies on her bed, James beside her, and wonders if she'll wake up in a minute, because this feels a little unreal. He ducks his head and speaks quietly in her ear.

"First I'm going to slip two fingers into you," he murmurs, "and then I'm going to stroke your clit with my thumb, and at the same time I'm going to suck on those beautiful nipples of yours, one after the other. And you will be writhing and moaning, desperate to come."

Her dark eyes are wide as she watches him push himself up onto his knees beside her.

"I'm going to part your thighs now, Alesha," he tells her, suiting his actions to his words. "Ready?"

She nods, speechless, then gasps as he slips his fingers into her.

"Clit now," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing lightly against the bundle of nerves, which sends a jolt of electricity through her body.

"Oh god!" she moans, then groans as his mouth descends onto her right breast, and he laps at her nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

"James!" Just as he said she would, she's moaning and writhing on the bed, clutching the sheets in a tight grip as he continues to talk her through what he's going to do to her, murmuring into her ear as he drives his fingers deeper into her heat and rubs her clit more firmly.

"I'm going to add another finger now," he tells her.

It's enough to bring her to her climax and her hips buck up off the bed, her muscles clenching tightly around his fingers.

"Oh that's nice," he murmurs. "You look so beautiful when you come." He continues to stroke her through the aftershocks of her orgasm before pulling his fingers free, eliciting a moan at their absence.

"Don't worry," he tells her, "I'm not going anywhere." He leans over and takes a condom from the packet on the bedside table, and she watches as he rolls it down his length.

He moves over her, and she reaches up to pull his head down for a kiss. "I want you," she tells him breathlessly when she releases his mouth.

"And you shall have me," he murmurs. He guides himself inside her, pushing in slowly and carefully. "Okay?"

She nods, staring up at him with her dark, expressive eyes, and he ducks his head to kiss her quick and hard, then he speaks softly in her ear.

"Think I can make you scream?"

She gasps, surprised, then whimpers as he pulls out with exquisite slowness.

"Well?" he asks, poised with just the tip of his cock still inside her.

"Think you might," she answers breathlessly.

He pushes back in, and then he's moving in and out, slowly at first, then faster, and harder, and deeper as she wraps her legs around his waist. Then he slips a hand between their bodies and his fingers unerringly find her clit, and he only has to rub it for a few moments before her muscles clench tightly around him, and although she doesn't actually scream, she does cry "James!" quite loudly. After a few more thrusts, he comes too, murmuring her name in her ear. He manages to move off her, pulling her with him so that she ends up lying on top of him, their bodies still joined for the moment.

"Was that okay?" he asks, and she lifts her head, surprised that he's asking.

"Better than okay," she tells him, kissing him, before settling her head under his chin.

He smiles, unseen, as he strokes one hand languidly up and down her spine. "Good."

* * * * * *

She wakes a little while later from a nap and finds him lying on his side, watching her. When he sees she's awake, he smiles, then leans forward to kiss the tip of her nose.

"I thought it was blokes who were supposed to fall asleep after sex," he teases.

"James Steel, are you being sexist?" she asks, eyebrows raised in question.

"Who me? I wouldn't dare." She snorts. "No, really. I wouldn't dare be sexist around you," he assures her with an earnest expression.

"Am I that much of an ogre, then?" she asks.

"You? Never. But you can be a bit fierce at times." He ducks his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. "I like it though."

She reaches for his cock, which is half-hard. "Do you now?" She brushes the head lightly, her thumb barely grazing his skin, but she feels it twitch.

"Yes," he breathes.

"So what would you say if I suggested tying you up some time?"

"Tying me up?" he asks, obviously surprised.

She nods, continuing to stroke his shaft. "I thought I could use our scarves. I want to see you lose control for once."

"And you think tying me up would achieve that?"

Alesha shrugs. "Maybe." She ducks her head and plants a feather-light kiss on the tip of his cock, smirking when he gasps in response.

"You can tie me up as long as I get to tie you up," he says finally.

"Deal."

"You know, it hadn't occurred to me that you were kinky," he says as she teases his cock with her tongue.

"So, you've thought about sex with me, then?" she asks, lifting her head to look at him.

To her amusement he blushes faintly. "Once or twice," he admits, "but only in the last few weeks."

"You never said anything."

"I didn't think you'd be interested," he explains.

"What time is it?" she asks. "Not that I'm wanting to kick you out, I've just lost track."

James turns his head and squints at Alesha's alarm clock. "Eleven," he answers.

"Are you staying the night?"

He nods. "If you want me to, then I'd like to."

"I do want you to," she says eagerly, and they make love again before falling asleep, spent and satisfied.

* * * * * *

By the time James wakes, Alesha been lying awake for a little while, wondering whether he will regret what they've done, and whether they've just ruined both their friendship and their working relationship. He wakes shortly after 6 am with the sense that something is different, then memory comes flooding back, and he turns his head to see her watching him, a grin on her face.

"You look like the cat that's got the cream," he observes, stretching.

"Oh, you're definitely the cream," she says, running a hand lightly down his body from the hollow of his throat to his waist.

"Someone's frisky this morning," he comments.

Her grin widens, and she ducks her head to kiss him as her left hand moves lower. He moans into her mouth as she caresses him, his erection stiffening.

"I'm going to start calling you Little Miss Insatiable," he teases.

Her hand stops, and he sees an anxious expression in her eyes. "Relax," he says quickly. "I'm just teasing you."

"You don't mind, me being insatiable, I mean?"

"Alesha, it's a big ego boost for me to have a young woman want to have sex with me once. So just imagine how much more of an ego boost it is that you can't seem to get enough of me."

She still looks a little doubtful, so he reassures her with quiet words and soft kisses.

By the following Monday evening, after a horrendously long and busy day in court, she's forgotten her worries; James is his usual self throughout the day – totally focused on the case in hand – and she might have thought Friday night was just a dream except for the wink he gives her when he says goodnight as she prepares to head home.

* * * * * *

Several weeks after her birthday, when they're sprawling in her bed after some very vigorous love-making, he reminds her of her desire to tie him up and see him 'lose control'.

"I wasn't sure if you'd lost interest in the idea," she observes.

"I didn't want to rush into it," he answers. "That kind of sexual play requires trust between both partners." She nods her understanding. "But if you still want to try it out, then I think I'm ready."

"Okay." She moves off the bed, smiling at him as she glances back from the doorway, enjoying the sight of him lying naked and hard on her bed. She hurries along the hall and grabs their scarves from the hat stand, then hurries back.

"Ever done this before?" he asks as she ties his wrists together with her scarf, then fastens them to the bed with his.

"No," she admits, with a slightly shy expression.

"Have you wanted to?"

She shakes her head as she finishes tying the second scarf. "Not until now." She moves to kneel between his legs, watching his face. Then she lowers her head and runs her tongue up the underside of his cock, before flicking the tip; his body jerks in response and she lifts her head to smirk at him.

"Tease," he gasps.

She laughs softly. "That's rather the point," she reminds him. "To tease you until you lose control."

"Why does – " He finds he can't get the rest of the sentence out because she's just lowered her head again and taken his length into her mouth, and the sight renders him momentarily speechless.

"Fuck!" he exclaims, when he finally recovers the power of speech.

She lifts her head and pulls her mouth free with a wet pop, her smirk now a wide grin. "You were about to ask me something, I believe?"

He gathers his scattered wits. "Why's it so important to you that I lose control?"

"I would have thought my learned friend could work that one out for himself," she answers, grinning.

James tries to concentrate, but the erotic sight before him is too distracting. He can feel Alesha relaxing her throat muscles to swallow more of his cock, and he can't help thrusting upwards in response. She lifts her head so that only the head remains in her mouth, and looks over at him.

"Sorry," he says, panting slightly.

She releases his cock and grins at him. "You're starting to get the hang of this," she notes.

"But – " he begins, puzzled.

"I told you that I wanted you to lose control," she reminds him.

He hisses slightly as she gently squeezes the base of his shaft. "Yes."

She moves to lie on top of him, his hard length pressed between their bodies. "Ideally, I'd like you to beg," she tells him, her voice low and sultry in his ear as she wiggles against him.

"Tease!" he repeats with another gasp as she shifts so that she can suck one of his nipples into her mouth.

She chuckles without releasing him, and he groans, tugging at his bonds.

"Ah, ah," she scolds. "That's cheating."

He glowers and she grins, then takes his other nipple into her mouth. When he writhes beneath her onslaught, she nips at the hard peak and he yelps in shock.

After a few more minutes of sucking and gently biting his nipples, she moves down his body again and straddles his thighs.

"Ready?" she asks, rolling a condom down his length.

He nods eagerly and she shifts position so that the head of his cock is brushing her entrance, and he tugs at the scarves again. "Alesha, please!" he says desperately.

"Thank you," she says softly and guides him inside. She wonders, briefly, what it says about her that she's so turned on by the expression of raw need on his face, but now isn't the time to consider the matter. Instead, she concentrates on the rise and fall of her body against his as she brings them both closer and closer to their climax. Her muscles clench tightly around him as she falls over the brink, but she continues to move knowing James is close behind her.

He cries out her name as he comes, and she leans down to kiss him, stroking his sweaty hair off his forehead. Then she moves forward, allowing him to slip out of her, and proceeds to untie him. She massages his wrists as he gets his breath back.

"Happy now?" he asks when she moves to lie alongside him.

"Mmm, yes. Thank you."

"Good." He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, kissing her languidly.

After a while she tucks her head under his chin, and they doze for an hour or so.

* * * * * *

Alesha wakes again to an awareness that James is stroking her bottom.

"Did I ever tell you what a lovely bottom you have?" he asks.

"No, I'm sure I would've remembered if you'd mentioned that," she says with a soft laugh.

"I confess," he says, his voice a quiet murmur in her ear, "that I've admired it once or twice."

"Perv," she teases.

"Says the woman who tied me up and made me beg her for sex," he retorts.

She lifts her head to look at him. "Do you mind?" she asks, sounding anxious.

"Of course not," he answers, surprised. "If I'd objected I wouldn't have agreed to do it. It's not as if you tied me up while I was sleeping and raped me. You worry too much." He leans up to kiss her, then pulls her head down as he lowers his own back onto the pillow.

"I think I'm going save tying you up until the morning."

She laughs. "Okay."

He reaches out a long arm and turns out the bedside light, then smiles in the dark when she whispers a good night.

* * * * * *  
The next morning James wakes first and lies watching her, reflecting that he's a very lucky man. Alesha has brought him out of the shell into which he'd retreated after his divorce, and broken down the barriers he'd put up in an attempt to prevent himself getting hurt again after his relationship with McArdle ended. He knows that she may hurt him yet, but he feels that if this new relationship does break down, she will be rather more gentle with him than Beatrice ever was.

When Alesha wakes, she smiles at him, a little hint of satisfaction in her expression. He watches as she goes out to the bathroom, then returns to sit on the bed beside him.

"Good morning," she says.

"Good morning." He sits up and gently pushes her down onto her back, then leans down to kiss her eagerly. "My turn to tie you up and make you beg," he tells her, his voice husky with desire.

"You can try," she says, one eyebrow lifted at him.

He smirks. "I plan to," he assures her, reaching up to tie her wrists together, then fastening them to the bed. "And once I do let you come, I'm going to make you scream." He kisses her quick and hard, then moves down the bed to lie between her legs.

His finger circles her entrance, stroking her skin tantalisingly slowly, his eyes fixed on hers. She lies watching him, a slightly quizzical expression on her face. She's not ready to admit it to him just yet, but she's growing aroused already, and she acknowledges to herself that he may well manage to make her both beg and scream in due course.

"Is that all you've got?" she asks teasingly.

He grins up at her. "I've barely even started," he assures her. Then he takes the lips of her sex between his forefingers and thumbs on each side, and begins to stroke them. Her legs twitch involuntarily and James looks smug, clearly pleased by this reaction. He notes the way her eyes have widened and her breath quickened, and ducks his head to tease her with his mouth. He hears Alesha gasp as he drags his tongue up the length of her entrance.

After only a few minutes of this treatment she's moaning and writhing in reaction to the combined onslaught of fingers and tongue, but he pulls away before she can reach her climax.

"Bastard," she growls.

He chuckles, then repeats his actions, varying the pressure of his fingers and his tongue, but still not bringing her over the edge. After the fourth time that he brings her to the brink but doesn't allow her to come, she's almost sobbing with need, and she abandons her pride.

"James, please, let me come!" she begs.

He lifts his head and grins, then ducks down again and drives his fingers into her, sucking on her clit, and moments later she cries out his name as she climaxes. He strokes her gently through the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm she's ever experienced, then kisses a path up her body until he reaches her mouth. He unties her wrists as he kisses her.

When they surface for air, he grins down at her. "Fair's fair," he says. "You made me beg last night."

"True," she agrees, reaching out to grab the box of condoms. She pulls one out and as soon as he's safely sheathed, she guides his cock to her entrance and he easily slips inside.

"Do you know what else I'd like to try?" he asks as he begins to thrust gently.

She shakes her head, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Sex somewhere other than here in bed," he tells her.

Her eyebrows shoot up and he smirks. "Where did you have in mind?" she asks.

He shrugs one shoulder. "Kitchen, maybe? With you bent over the table and me taking you from behind. Or on the sofa, perhaps?"

"You're not even half as staid as you pretend to be, are you Mr Steel?"

"Pretend?" he protests, his body stilling. "I've never pretended to be staid."

She runs her hands down his back and then cups his bottom, trying to urge him to continue. "I didn't mean that unkindly," she assures him. "But you've always seemed a bit buttoned up, all steely self-control." He groans at her play on his name, but he resumes his thrusts.

Afterwards, they lie in a sweaty tangle of limbs, and she nuzzles his neck. "If you want to try sex somewhere different, what about in the shower?"

He turns his head and kisses her quick and hard. "I think I like that idea," he says. "But do you mind if I get my breath back first?"

She giggles. "I didn't mean this instant, silly," she says.

"Then I'm all in favour." He smiles, pleased that he made the suggestion. He thinks they're going to have some fun together, and looks forward to it.


End file.
